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A sudden fancy strikes you, and you decide to walk back to your cabin through the outside railing.
You struggle toopen one of the main doors leading to the outside of the gondola. Finally help arrives in the form of a young crewmember, a lad no older than sixteen. Though the sky looks so tranquil, a strong wind and a wave of chill hit you both. Your shoulders are still bare. You contemplate closing the door, but steel yourself. A lady must always be prepared for anything.
The lad stop you. He is trying to tell you something, but you simply find no common language with him. You are reduced to shrugging helplessly and gesturing. He gestures for you to wait, walks back a few steps, and rummages through a cabinet of some sort. From that, he gives you a harness.
Of course. The safety harness. You don't own your own, even though having a personalized one that goes with your dress is are all the vogue in Slavian courts. You eye this one with slight dread, but you decide that the dark blemishes and splotches are discolorations from years of use, and not stains that would ruin your expensive dress. It goes around your waist, armpits and shoulders. You are very briefly explained where to clasp it, and only then does the boy allow you to exit.
You give him warm smile and a soft kiss on the cheek before closing the door behind you, leaving him as stunned and as immobile as if he were a statue. Might as well give the lad something nice to dream about.
You clasp the harness to the railing. The winds are assaulting you now - but, you realize, it's not the winds at all; it is the Empress moving through the aer at the speed of over twenty knots. You can see the insides of the lounge, where people are still dancing and drinking. You spot Giuseppe lying on his back on one of the comfort chairs, snoring. You can't hear anything - the windows, you seem to recall Alejandro saying, are double glass for thermal isolation.
You see a figure, also harnessed, moving in the opposite direction. It's a crewmember. He politely switches to the other railing so that you and he can pass each other by. You give him a polite smile. He returns the favour, but then, through his smile, he says, in broken Francian:
"Boiler room C. Ten minutes from now."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Better be there, mademoiselle." He leans close to whisper. "Newt business."
You freeze instantly. The crewmember cheerfully continues on as if nothing had happened. You spend some time watching the clouds below you, forgetting about the winds and the cold.
You weren't really afraid, per se. Although this will certainly make the matter more complicated.
You were just plain angry and frustrated.
Was a girl truly never safe from that man, even in the gods-damn SKY?
